


Chew Toy

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Companion Piece, Everyone else knows, M/M, POV Outsider, Pigtail Pulling, Pre-Relationship, Werewolf Bill Cipher, handcuffing the werewolf to the radiator trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Now that Bill's a werewolf, he's upped his pigtail pulling game with Dipper. Dipper is not having it. Everyone else has decided to stay out of it.Mabel comes down one morning to find Bill handcuffed to the oven.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	Chew Toy

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually a companion piece to dipper's pov, which I have... not finished yet. I wanted to post them both for Halloween, but this month has been BRUTAL to me. this is all I wrote all month. I hate it here.
> 
> anyway, I'll link to the other fic when it gets complete, because, well. that's where the really fun part is at, yeah?
> 
> so. mabel pov (3rd person), spawned by a conversation of the "handcuffing the werewolf to the radiator" trope - except, well. bill wasn't feral so much as he was... an ass. 
> 
> happy halloween. keep it safe, keep it spooky

She later blames it on how sleepy she was as she blearily made her way to the kitchen that she didn’t notice at first. In fact, she had even made it into the room, past the arch, before she saw him. When she does though, she halts mid-step, sleep evaporating from her and confusion taking its place.

And hey, it’s not like he immediately realized she was there, either.

Sprawled out in front of the oven is a very grumpy looking Bill. He’s got his hands tucked behind his back, though not by his own choice. No, because he’s actually handcuffed to the bottom handle of the oven, keeping him in place and not allowing him much room to even shift his position. Around his neck is a strung-up paper sign that says…

“Um…”

It’s at the sound of her bewilderment that he finally jerks his head in her direction and spots her. Underneath his tousled bangs, his eyes light up when he sees that it’s her. He starts to wiggle in place, fighting his restraints. The handcuffs clink and clank against the metal oven, but they don’t budge. She doesn’t either, frozen in place and growing more and more unsure. He garbles something, an attempt at talking to her (probably hoping she’ll free him), but there is a rag in his mouth and tied around the back of his head that stops him from forming actual words. He looks like a hostage victim.

Nope.

No, nuh-uh, not today. Not. Today.

She spins on her heel and goes in search of her brother.

* * *

It’s the giftshop in where she finds him. He’s setting up the cash register, but she knows it’s just a way to keep him moving. It’s perfectly ready for work today. He has no real reason to be so busy around it. That, combined with the fact that he didn’t turn around when she loudly made her way into the room, tells her everything.

He knows that she’s here for him and he knows exactly what she’s going to confront him about.

She wastes no time. “Why is Bill handcuffed to the oven?”

Dipper freezes, but to his credit, he does try to answer her, “He’s – ”

Not that she’s finished enough to let him. “And why is there a sign around his neck that says ‘ _beware dog’_?”

Dipper’s shoulders hunch up around his ears. “He keeps biting the customers!”

Mabel pauses to digest that, allowing the concept to roll around in her head. It brings to mind all the times she’s caught the two of them roughhousing – a stretch; a closer description would be all the times she’s seen Bill wrestling Dipper to the couch or floor and Dipper trying, poorly, to escape. She thinks of all the bite marks that Dipper has screamed up a storm over. The smug looks Bill would shoot him, even after being admonished. The constant eyes he has on her brother, tracking his every movement, watching him so openly, yet so covertly, a thing they didn’t discuss. The way he prowls about the place now, every single time lifting the hairs on the back of her neck, her hindbrain telling her to _run_ , that he is something to run from.

Shaking her head, she rids herself of that train of thought. So he’s been doing that. But it’s always _Dipper_ and no one else. She doesn’t quite believe that he’s been doing anything to the customers. It’s more likely that it’s just another him and Dipper thing and now Dipper’s fed up enough to finally do something in retaliation.

She doesn’t blame him. It _is_ kind of funny, too.

She hasn’t even seen Bill do anything new or different to the customers, anyway. Nothing out of the ordinary for him. Some manipulation, some pickpocketing, but everyone (mostly) turns a blind eye to those actions when it comes to the tourists. They kind of have to around here, what with living in the same place as their Grunkle Stan.

But as for the current abnormality of his behavior…

“You guys are so weird,” she comments in the end, words tucked around the edge of a laugh. It’s the way Dipper has curled in on himself like a turtle. Aww, and a really cute one too. She definitely needs to knit him a little turtleneck sweater to hide in.

Maybe with less bare skin flashed about, Bill would stop biting him as often.

… Okay, she will admit, that’s not likely in reality.

Dipper, however, bristles at this statement. He goes from a shy turtle to an irritated cat. He’s turned around to look at her now, bitter frustration flashing in his eyes. “ _Why_ – ” he has to pause to swallow around his own upset before he can continue, “Why are you including me in that? Mabel, _he’s_ the one that’s been _biting_ people!”

Biting _you_ , she thinks but doesn’t say. She grins nonetheless. With a shrug she knows will only bother him further, she returns, “You _are_ the one that’s punishing him for it.”

Dipper turns a bright, cherry red and splutters. Oh, Bill would have been all over that. He doesn’t even know what he’s missing. “Mabel!” She can’t help the laugh she lets out at his reaction and his voice gets even louder and higher in pitch as he attempts to talk over her giggling, “Mabel, it isn’t like that!”

“ _Sure_.” She gives him an exaggerated wink. He balls his fists. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, bro-bro.”

“ _Mabel!_ ”

She lets off before he actually starts up with the banshee screaming. It can get shrill. She laughs, letting him grumble at her and prattle off excuses about this and that. She doesn’t really believe any of them and she doubts he does either. Unless he’s having yet another _deep denial_ moment, that is. Then nobody really knows exactly what he’s believing, especially if he’s the one saying it.

As much as he protests all of the tomfoolery with Bill, she doesn’t think he actually believes that it spreads outside of _him_. Mabel is pretty sure that Dipper knows that much. He’s just trying to cover himself now.

Not that she cares about what he did. He doesn’t see her freeing Bill, does he? No. So, those two can do whatever they want to each other. In fact, it’s really for the better when she doesn’t get involved.

Even Grunkle Stan has said as much, and that’s coming from the man who would encourage and record anything he thought would make him a quick buck.

“ _So_ ,” she finally cuts in when she’s got all her giggles out. She draws out the _so_ until Dipper gives up and looks at her again, quiet. “Where’d you get the handcuffs, anyway?”

He looks at her, then away. Then, with a deliberate, nonchalant shrug, he forces himself to make eye contact with her. “Grunkle Stan’s room.”

“What – seriously?” She yells, and he waves at her to get her to settle down. She does lower her voice, but she steps in close to make up for it. Even hushed, her words carry excitement, “You broke in?”

He frowns at her, but drawn in by the twin gravity they have, he leans in as well. “I didn’t – it wasn’t, like, _locked_ , okay? It was open and I… So was this box he’d had out. I don’t know. I’d never seen it before. I saw it through the door and thought _hey! That might be useful later_ and – ”

“I can’t believe the handcuffing was premeditated,” Mabel interrupts. Yes, she can. She totally called it.

“ _No!_ ” He snaps, but it so was. “It wasn’t – I didn’t _plan_ – ”

“That would be a first.”

“Mabel!” He scolds her for the continuous interrupting. “Look, I was just going to borrow them, okay? I didn’t immediately think of Bill when I saw them, but…” he trails off, obviously not wanting to incriminate himself further.

She has his back, though. She spares an amused look at his guilty expression. Then, she nudges him with her elbow and hums. “But if the wrist fits…”

“Yeah.” He makes eye contact with her and, upon seeing her lack of criticism of his plan and actions, he relaxes. He rubs at the back of his neck and gives a weak smile that only grows when she beams back at him. “I guess they kind of did, didn’t they?”

This time, when Mabel laughs, Dipper laughs along with her.

* * *

Handing Grunkle Stan his cup of lemonade, Mabel settles for sitting on the porch step rather than on the couch beside him. From here, she can make nonsensical shapes in the dirt with the tips of her shoes as she watches the boys chase each other around the yard.

She doesn’t quite know what it was that started it this time, but it likely wasn’t anything important. By this point, it was so commonplace that most of the “reasons” were just thin excuses to start a fight of some kind. The two of them are practically incapable of talking to each other without it falling into snark and teeth. Everyone’s kind of gotten used to it, more or less. Even Grunkle Stan has given up either rooting for them or telling them to knock it off. Today, he doesn’t even look up as he reads the newspaper.

“Leave me alone, Bill!” Dipper shouts, ducking under an outstretched arm when Bill gets in close, and darting further away. Dipper doesn’t even make for the trees, or the house. He keeps it all to the open outcropping of the yard. It’s a game. “I mean it – go _away_!”

As he always does, because he doesn’t seem to believe a word of Dipper’s protests (and really, Mabel doesn’t either), Bill laughs and starts after him again. He’s not running as fast as he can, as fast as Mabel has seen him move before in the past, especially with his new superspeed.

_This is a game_.

They’re kind of…

“Ugh,” Grunkle Stan grouches as he shuffles his newspaper. She twists to look over her shoulder up at him. Over the top of the paper, his eyes follow the moving shrieks and laughter in the grass. “Young love,” he makes a face, “Gross,” and goes back to his paper.

Mabel turns back with a snort and then takes a long swallow of her drink. So sugary she can’t taste the tartness – just the way she likes it.

In front of her, Dipper trips over a rock, giving Bill that extra second he needs to finally catch him and send them hurtling to the ground. Pine needles shoot everywhere. Mabel takes another swig and the taste is summer sweet.

* * *

“Mabel, did you take my shirt?”

Mabel pauses in her reading and looks up to see Dipper leaning out of their closet. Seeing the crease between his eyebrows and the new tension in his stance, she sets her magazine in her lap. This is probably more serious than the question poses for. His words even sound rhetorical – like he already knows the answer.

“No,” she answers slow as her mind works on what the deeper meaning to this could be. “What would I do with your sweaty, stinky clothes? I know how often you wash them.”

His frown gets deeper, but his shoulders relax. Then his expression clears, and a light comes to his eyes as he gestures to her bed. “That’s some big talk coming from the girl who only changes her sheets once a summer.”

Which –

“Hey!” She squawks, but they both know he’s right. She _doesn’t_ like to change her sheets, just as he doesn’t like to do laundry. But her reasoning is because, “Sheets are hard to put on and take off!” She crosses her arms, thinking of all the huff and puff of pulling the corners and making sure they don’t snap back when she does the other end. “It’s not worth the effort.”

“And that’s why you have acne,” he says back, once more turning towards the closet. He reaches again for his side of things, like he thinks he missed his shirt and is going to find it after another look through. It can’t hurt to try, maybe.

With his back turned, he can’t dodge the pillow she throws at him. It hits him square in the head.

He squawks at it, but it’s a pillow. It obviously doesn’t hurt. Still, he plucks it from the ground and tosses it back to her. Before he can go back to doubting himself in the closet again (Mabel almost laughs at herself for this), she pipes up. “But really. Are your clothes going missing?” She runs her hands over the pillow and sets it back in its rightful place. “Do you think it’s some kind of… mystery?”

“No,” Dipper’s answer is near immediate. He shakes his head, but it isn’t hiding anything (from what she can tell, but he _is_ her twin, so she’s mostly sure). He believes this, so she does too, and lets the previous tension seep away. “I probably just lost it, I guess. It’ll turn up at some point.”

Mabel agrees with an offer of, “Probably from behind the couch.”

He sticks his tongue out at her, but doesn’t disagree. She wrinkles her nose back at him. Well, at least he knows how gross he is.

She sends one more look towards the closet where he’s pushing the hangers back into place. She doesn’t understand how a teenage boy can lose so many clothes. Well, whatever. She shakes her head and picks up her magazine again. Must be a Dipper thing.

* * *

Her brother’s been acting weird around Bill lately. Well, weirder than usual. Rather than the usual cat and mouse dynamic they usually have going, it’s been more of… flat out avoiding. At least on Dipper’s end, anyway. It’s especially weird, because no matter how bad they’d gotten in the past, that wasn’t something he’d typically do. Normally there’s a fire to their interactions that has Dipper standing his ground (even when he inevitably loses it to Bill’s prodding), no matter how many of his buttons Bill would push. Today, Mabel’s going to get to the bottom of it.

That means that when Dipper takes his breakfast from the table and bolts back up the stairs to eat alone in their room, Mabel puts on her Serious Face. With it, and as grave a tone as she can muster, she points a finger at Bill’s face (which is currently stuffed up with an excessive amount of waffles). “Okay, spill. What did you do to him?”

Bill, who’d been watching Dipper like a hawk the second he’d stepped off the bottom stair and then tracking him through the shack, darts a glance at her. It’s so creepy when he does that. It’s part of the thing they don’t really talk about, the constant watching, but it’s more than a little unnerving to be so blatantly reminded that he can hear them throughout the whole house, and of his obsession with her brother.

He doesn’t hold her eyes. Instead, he swallows and stabs at his plate. Specifically, the empty sections, not really aiming for food. The fork screeches against the ceramic, but she holds back a wince and doesn’t give in. Finally, with an ominous, yet bitter twist to his lips, he mutters darkly, “Nothing he didn’t want.”

She doesn’t believe that. She doesn’t believe that in the slightest.

In fact, more than anything else, it… unsettles her. Another one of those rare moments when she’s reminded that he’s a predator now, something _dangerous_.

Guess it’s on her to go find out just what he did to her brother. With a last squint and an _I’m watching you_ gesture, she pushes away from the table and leaves to go follow after Dipper. She leaves her food behind, knowing Bill will probably take it, anyway. Whatever. His dish to do now. That’s the least of her worries.

Just as she’s turning the corner, not yet out of earshot, she hears Grunkle Stan ask, “Alright, where’s my handcuffs?”

She pauses to listen in. Bill’s voice comes to rebut, “What makes you think _I_ took them?”

“Because if either of those two saw what else was in that box, neither of them would be able to look me in the eyes right now.”

It takes a second for that to click in. Then.

“ _Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!_ ” She sprints for the stairs, covering her ears and wishing it would block the images in her mind. No, no, no! That is something no grandniece _ever_ wants to hear about her great uncle. Not this early in the morning, not ever. Gross. So, so gross.

And Dipper _touched_ those handcuffs, too!

That makes one other reason to talk to Dipper, then. Whatever happened with him and Bill _cannot_ be worse than those implications.

**Author's Note:**

> come on Mabel, it was just his fake IDs and other stolen stuff. not like _that_
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
